Seeing Things Differently
by operaghost517
Summary: A series of one-shots from the point of view of all different characters at various times throughout and after the trilogy.
1. Jace

**Hey all! So this is my first Mortal Instruments fanfic. This first one-shot is from Jace's point of view after City of Glass. I'm going to add more from all different character's POV. Please, R&R!**

The rosy light of twilight illuminated the glorious city of Idris. Its buildings seemed lit with an incandescent glow. People walked the streets, Downworlders and Shadowhunters alike, reveling in the beauty of it. In light of recent events, they seemed to walk with some trepidation, as if one wrong step could plummet everything into the dark times we had until recently been living in. Though even this anxiety couldn't eclipse the beauty of this night. Once, I would have thought no other sight could be more perfect.

I didn't see any of it now.

She was walking toward me, her bright hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. From my post atop the hill, I watched her as she made her trek up to me. She didn't look at me at first. I saw her bright eyes take in her surroundings, watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed in the cool evening air. A gentle smile played at her full lips. Finally, her gaze reached mine.

For a moment, we both stood there, frozen. Realizing again that we had won this battle, that we belonged together now. Simaltaneously, we stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a few strides. I opened my arms, and she fell into them.

I closed my arms around her, binding her to my chest. She fit so perfectly there, and I couldn't remember what it felt like to be without her. How had I survived that time when she was forbidden to me? Slowly, gently, she turned her head up to mine. Her eyes searched mine, and with a smile I kissed her. She sighed.

"Clary," I breathed into her hair. That was all I needed to say. Whatever uncertainty I had had about my identity—my name—none of that mattered now. Hers was the only name I needed.

Clary.


	2. Maryse

**Hey! Thanks a bunch to you guys that reviewed, I really appreciate this. So this next one is sadder... Hope you enjoy anyway! As always, please review! **

**This is from the point of view of Maryse, a few months after City of Glass.  
**

Her quiet footsteps echoed throughout the empty hallway. Dawn had not yet broken through the veil of clouds. It was in this eerie silent that Maryse Lightwood made her way down the hall to what used to be her son Max's room.

She opened the door slightly with a creak, and slipped inside. It had an empty feeling in the air about it, as if no one had been in it for a long time. Which no one had. It remained exactly the way he left it. Comic books were strewn about the floor, clothing hanging off of chairs. The bed was unmade, of course. This unorderly mess brought a smile to her lips, even if there was no real joy behind it. Maryse sat down upon the crumpled sheets, curling her long legs under her.

"Happy Birthday, Maxie," she whispered into the air. "I got you this book, I know how much you like them." She pulled out one of those Japanese comic books he adored so much and laid it gingerly on his pillow. The pressure of her hand released a small cloud of scent from the pillow. Max's scent. Her _child's _scent.

With that the wall Maryse had been so carefully building around her emotions broke like the rush of a river behind a dam. She couldn't contain the flow of tears leaking from her eyes. She threw her head down into the pillow, breathing in the comforting aroma as sobs racked her body. She was glad no one could see her in this moment of weakness. She had to be strong. Izzy and Alec and Robert and Jace…they needed her to be strong.

The door creaked once again, but Maryse couldn't bring herself to look up to see who it was. She tried to compose herself, to staunch the tears, but she was unable to. Suddenly, cool arms were around her, soft hands wiping her cheeks. From behind the veil of water clouding her eyes Maryse caught a glimpse of long, red hair.

Jocelyn.

Maryse allowed herself to be held by her friend of long ago. Just this once, she told herself, she could be weak. After this, she would remain strong. That's what Max would've wanted.

And so there they stayed, Jocelyn holding Maryse even as the tears flowed down her own face. The mother of the murderer comforting the mother of the victim.


	3. Simon

**I was going to try to write a funny oneshot, more upbeat, but I didn't like the way they came out, so this is the result of my frustration! Hope you enjoy, as always, R&R! **

_They are four years old. A red headed girl stands alone in the corner, looking lost. He walks to her, takes her hand and leads her to the slide. They slide down together, her sweet laugh filling the playground. _

_They are six, and he saves a seat for her at the lunch table. She sits down and pulls out half a jelly sandwich. His half of peanut butter is already in his hand, and they press the pieces together, rip them apart, and eat them, as they had every day that year._

_They are nine years old. A bully is teasing him about his new glasses. The fire-haired girl pushes the boy away, ignoring his insults about her, and pulls the bespectacled boy away. She keeps hold of his hand as they walk outside, telling him not to listen, she likes his glasses. _

_They are twelve, sitting together on a park bench. She leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. He sits perfectly still, trying not to disturb her. He listens to her steady breathing, wishing she felt the way he did. _

_Seventh grade, she calls him at two in the morning, just needing to talk to someone. He listens to her whisper for hours, happy just to hear her voice. She doesn't know…He didn't want to ruin anything…_

_He is thirteen, sitting with his other friends at a restaurant. They point out girls to him, telling him to get over her, find someone else. A blonde sitting at the counter. "_She_ is prettier than that girl," he thinks. The friendly brunette who comes to talk with them. "That girl's not as funny as _her_," he can't help but feel._

_They are fourteen years old. He holds her as she cries on his shoulder, having just experienced her first broken heart. He decides he will tell her soon. Soon, she'll feel the same way. Soon, they'll be together. Soon. _

_They are fifteen, and he watches her walk away, happy in the arms of someone else. The golden haired boy holds her gaze in a way he himself never could. She doesn't look at back him as she leaves, and he feels his heart being crushed with each step she takes. _

_

* * *

_

**(A/N: I know how much reviews mean to me, so I've decided to review all the stories I read. If you're with me, please review! It'll take thirty seconds, but it means so much!)  
**


	4. Alec

Alec

**Long time no update, sorry!! It's been a crazy summer...Hope you like this oneshot. Thanks a ton to all of you who reviewed and added me to ther alert/favorite list. It means so much to me!! Read and review, as always :)**

I scowled into the mirror at my reflection—that is, I think it was my reflection. Magnus had gelled my hair into elaborate spikes, dying the tips a flamboyant blue. As if the hair wasn't enough, he had picked out a blue blazer, green scarf and plaid pants for me to wear too. Jace was never going to let me live this down. I couldn't believe I ever agreed to this.

The doorbell rang, and Magnus clapped his hands in excitement. I groaned and dragged myself up from my seat at the mirror. Magnus threw open the door. "Jace! Clary!" he cried.

I tried to escape around the corner into the bathroom of Magnus' flat, but he grabbed my hand in a viselike grip and dragged me to greet my friends.

Jace looked like he was about to choke. His mouth was turning up into a thrilled grin at my appearance, and I tried to figure out what was the worst he could say. He opened his mouth; probably about to say some really witty comment, but Clary elbowed him in the chest.

"Hi, Alec," she said casually, though I heard the laughter in her voice. I inwardly thanked her for controlling it. "When's the party starting?"  
"Half an hour," I said dully.

"I'm just gonna, uh, use the restroom," she said, and I gestured around the corner. She went off, Magnus following but turning back toward the kitchen, leaving Jace and I alone. I walked sullenly back to Magnus' main room and settled myself down on the plush black couch.

"Alright, Jace," I said, "Let's get this over with. What clever insults have you already come up with?"

His face broke out into a wicked smirk. "Alec, I didn't come over here to insult you…only why didn't you tell me you were the fourth Jonas Brother?"

"Ha ha, an ingenious and original joke."

"Did I catch a hint of sarcasm, Oh Fashionable One?"

"Wouldn't dream of it…" I replied unconvincingly.

"Lighten up, Alec. Don't be so serious all the time," he said, flicking his blonde hair back with a jerk of his head.

"At least this is the real me. I think you're just pretending. This wittiness is just a shield."

He sat up; arms still folded behind his head, and gave me a cynical grin. "Oh, no. You can pretend to be serious, you can't pretend to be witty."

Before I could come up with a snappy retort, Clary reentered the room, and Jace's attention automatically shifted to her. As he reached his arm out to receive her, I found myself for once not gazing on in envy. Magnus stood in the doorway, watching. I turned my head and gave him a broad smile, happy for once with what I have.

He blew a kiss in my direction, and I laughed and stood to join him. The doorbell rang again, and he went to answer it. I walked beside him, reaching my hand down to grip his in mine. He squeezed my hand, and I opened the door, ready to face whatever stood behind it.


	5. Clary

Clary

**Here's my attempt at how Clary was feeling during the time she thought Jace was her brother. This one was difficult to convey what I wanted, but I hope you enjoy anyway! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!!! Please, keep reviewing!**

I can't be away from him. I can't be close to him. Not in the way I want to. It's as if no matter what I do, something is constantly pulling me back to him. As if he is the sun and I am some poor planet, caught helplessly in orbit around him, being pulled closer and closer and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I know it's wrong. Oh God, I know it's forbidden. But I _can't help it. _I try not to think of him, but that is like trying not to breathe. His voice echoes constantly in my head, his eyes swimming before mine. If I close my eyes I can still feel his arms around me.

I used to pity those girls who always complained about how they've fallen for the wrong guy. Used to judge them and make fun of them. But I know now how they feel. I've fallen, and I've fallen hard, and it can't ever be.

He took my world and flipped it upside down, and now I can't figure out how to right it again. I'm not even sure I want to. Is it worth it to feel this pain, just to be near him? _Would_ it be better if I had never met him? Truthfully, I don't know who I would be without him. In just the short while I've known him, I've redefined everything I've ever thought.

Just to know him, I'll suffer this pain. Just to call him my friend, I'll let my heart break. But he can't know, he can't ever know…


	6. Isabelle

Isabelle

**Wow, this took forever to update! Sorry! I've had a lack of inspiration for a new one-shot. This one was inspired by Adam Lambert's version of "Tracks of my Tears." I'm not exactly ecstatic about this chapter, but I hadn't updated in forever and decided just to get this out here. **

**If anyone ever has suggestions for anything they'd like to see in future one-shots (characters, pairings, etc...) please let me know! Thanks a TON to everyone who reviewed, and to everyone for their patience! Please keep reviewing!!  
**

Isabelle sat at the crisp white vanity table in her spacious room, applying the finishing touches to her look before entering the crowd. She could already hear the laughter from the party drifting in through the small crack underneath her door. She took a brief glance at the ornate clock on her bedside table. 7:10. She still had around fifteen minutes to wait until she was fashionably late.

Regarding her face in the mirror, Isabelle tried to pull a convincing smile to her full lips. With her lips curved up, Isabelle felt she did a good job of disguising the pain she felt beneath it. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to prevent the inevitable tears. She hadn't cried in a while, had been doing a good job holding in her feelings. People had told her how she was the life of the party once again, and that they were happy to have her back. But Izzy didn't feel back. She realized that most people just didn't look close enough to know this. No one heard the tears under her laughter. Tears caused by seeing those she loved die, those she loved leave her, by being perpetually alone, even when surrounded by countless people. She felt it was obvious to see the tracks of her warm tears lining her pale face. They stained her cheeks like scars, more evident to her than the marks of her stele. She felt them constantly, even when they weren't visible to anyone but herself.

There was a gentle knock on her door, striking Isabelle out of her reverie. "Isabelle," chimed Maryse's soft voice. "Are you coming out soon?" Izzy glanced at the clock, shocked to find it was already 7:30.

"Be right there, Mother," she called, her voice slightly choked. Quickly she powdered her face once again, disguising any trace of tears that had leaked from her eyes, any crack in her essential foundation that could lead to a public—and humiliating—breakdown. Once again, Isabelle sighed in and smiled as brightly as she could muster. It was then that she realized that was all she really needed to cover her true feelings. A smile. A simple curved line that could fool the world. And with that, she opened her door and walked into the noisy room, greeting by numerous people all at once, not one of whom suspected her true feelings underneath her masquerade.


	7. Maia

Maia

**Wow, it's been so long! I'm so sorry for not updating in over 2 MONTHS! I can't believe how fast the time flies! Thanks everyone who reviewed or added this to fav/alert, and for sticking with me even though I've been AWOL for a while! **

**Here's the next oneshot, kinda funny how this came about. I was just sitting at my computer, planning on writing for a different story, and this came in my head! It's about Maia after she has been turned into a werewolf, and how she feels about her friends now. Short, I know, but it has a lot of emotion for me 'cuz I actually know what she feels like :( **

**Anyway, read, review, enjoy!

* * *

  
**

Maia sat in the corner of the classroom, forgotten once again. She watched as her old friends laughed and joked and smiled without her, as if she wasn't there. As she never had been.

She couldn't really remember how they had fallen apart. Once, the three of them had been inseparable. Like sisters. They had done everything together, known everything about each other. So many nights spent gushing about brushes, crying about broken hearts, they had always been together. They had such plans for the future, determined never to be were best friends.

Now, things were different. Maia wasn't who she used to be. She could never go back now. She had told herself repeatedly that it didn't matter. She could be the same Maia, but she knew that wasn't true. She was lying to herself to make the pain lessen. Only it didn't work. She could lie to the world, but she couldn't lie to herself.

The girl with the long, red hair—how Maia remembered braiding that hair at countless sleepovers—turned around suddenly, her eyes for a brief moment locking on Maia's. Maia opened her mouth, wanting to say a thousand things, but nothing came, just a small gasp. Then, as if it had all been a mistake, she flicked her long bright mane, shielding her face as she returned to her friends. They hadn't noticed anything, hadn't noticed Maia. They didn't care.

Life is sad like that. When you realize you hardly know the people who used to be your best friends. When you realize they probably don't miss you, and when you realize how much you miss them.


	8. JaceClary

Jace and Clary

**Just a bit of Jace and Clary fluff :) For once, I don't really have anything more to say... Just, as always, read and review, review, review!! Thanks to all of you who already do. And again, I'd love to take any suggestions**

Clary reclined against Jace's chest and exhaled in utter bliss. A gentle smile played at the edges of her mouth and her thick eyelashes fluttered happily. The bright sunlight filtered through her window, a crisp ray of gold illuminating Jace's already golden features. Jace ran his fingers through her fiery hair and she reveled in his touch.

"What?" he asked, his voice amused.

"It's just, I never thought things could go from being so, well crappy to being so perfect." She leaned her head back against his chest so that she was looking upside-down into his eyes. Her planted a tender kiss on her lips.

"I'm far from perfect, Clary," he responded, a smirk curving up his lips.

"How so?" she asked teasingly.

"Let's see…" he pondered, tapping his chin for a few moments. "No, you're right. I'm perfect." She punched him playfully and he laughed. "Okay, okay! Well, I always leave dirty socks on the floor." She nodded emphatically in agreement. "And I am a terrible singer."

"I know. I came by the Institute one day and you were in the shower singing _Oops…I did it again_. I mean, come one Jace! Britney Spears?"

"Fine! Add poor music taste as one of my flaws."

Clary giggled but then sobered. "I'm serious, though. To me, you're perfect. But there's got to be _something_ so that I don't feel so incompetent in comparison."

Jace's smile faded as he turned his face toward hers again and matched her tone. "Clary, I'm serious too. I'm not perfect in any way, shape or form, though the closest I've felt to it is when I'm with you. I'm arrogant, I know. I'm overprotective and often jealous. I've hurt a lot of people, including you. I've lied, cheated and killed. But none of that matters when I'm with you. I love you, Clary, and to me, you _are _perfect."

Tears pricked her eyes as she realized once again that here was a boy who would love her unconditionally, no matter how she looked, what she decided to wear that day, o what mistakes she might make. "fine, you're not perfect, but what you just said just makes me believe even more that this is too perfect, that I'm too lucky. I just keep feeling like something bad is going to happen and something's going to come sweep you away from me."

He cupped her face in his hand, softly stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Clary, as long as you want me here I will never leave. And even if you wanted me to go you'd have a hard time getting me do to it."

"Good" she responded emotionally. "Because I never want you to leave." She leaned her head forward, unable to stand the small space between them any longer. She kissed him, and he responded willingly, wrapping her safely in his embrace. And she knew, then, that no matter what happened in the future, they would always have this one perfect moment. Together.


	9. SimonClary

**Second one about Simon...guess I just like writing about him :) I do love him... So, I don't exactly know when this would fit in in the actual story, it's more of a thought that grew into a one shot in my head. Actually, have to give credit where credit is due. I was listening to a podcast about A Very Potter Musical (best thing ever if you haven't seen it) and the writer (Matt Lang) was talking about the star (Darron Criss/Harry Potter) and said "He's like the Hercules to my Hades," which I thought was pretty hilarious. Then my friend said she wanted to write about it (plz still use it, and don't be mad lol) Thus, this appeared! Hope you all enjoy! Humor, love, forgiveness, and thought all rolled into one (or so I hoped)**

**As always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Lots of people out there who review every time, and I so appreciate that! Thanks a million. However, so many people read this and don't review. It would make my day if you would :) Thoughts, encouragements, constructive criticism, whatever!**

**Thanks!!

* * *

  
**

Simon sat grudgingly on Clary's couch, glaring at her with an expression of such utter annoyance that Clary fidgeted in the armchair adjacent him. "What, Clary?" he asked, voice tinted with irritation.

She wasn't looking at him. Her hands were clasped in her lap and she seemed almost as regarding him as a stranger, which disconcerted Simon. As long as he could remember, he and Clary had been best friends. Two peas in a pod, at the risk of sounding cliché. This sudden distance saddened him, and with a sigh he softened his voice and tried again. "What, Clary?"

She met his gaze with such sincerity that it was almost as if nothing had ever happened between them. "I just want us to be okay. I want us to be _us _again."

He watched her for a moment before responding. Her fiery red hair was still frizzy, slung back in a messy bun. Her eyes were still wide and easily readable, framed by dark lashes. Freckles still splayed across her nose, and a gentle flush still played against her cheeks. Yet somehow, it al seemed different.

"I don't see how we can, Clary."  
"Why, Simon?" she pleaded.

"Because _us _is never going to be you and me again. It's always going to be you and _him_ No matter what you promise, he will always come first, and you know it." He leaned forward, his knee almost grazing hers, and he contemplated for a moment grasping her hands in his, but decided against it.

"Clary, you know how I feel about you. How I always have and probably always will. But he is always there! And you always want him. He's the perfect guy, right? And I'm just the guy in the shadows. It's like…it's like he's Hercules and I'm Hades," he finished with a roguish grin.

Clary leaned backward and scowled. "Stop being so melodramatic, Simon."

He chuckled slightly. "You can't deny it. He's like flawless, and I'm the crazy undead guy." Clary laughed, a ringing sound Simon hadn't realized how much he missed. "See? You know I'm right. I'm even undead! And Jace has angel blood, so…close enough."

Clary covered her mouth as she giggled. "And who am I in this whole charade, then?"

"Meg, obviously," he answered without hesitation. "And see, no matter how Hades feels about Meg, she still loves Hercules."  
Clary raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Didn't Hades manipulate and essentially kill Meg?"

Simon shook his head. "He just wasn't very good at showing his emotions. He didn't know how to tell Meg how he felt, and while he was trying to figure it out, she found Hercules."

Clary felt the prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes as they had long breached the joking stage of this conversation. "Simon…" she whispered.

"Don't…just, don't," he whispered painstakingly. He stood up heavily and began walking toward the door, not bothering to turn around or say goodbye. The next second he felt a small hand forcing him to turn around, and Clary's arms wrapping around his neck, her head pressing in the crook of his neck.

"I'll always love you, Simon. No matter what I feel about Jace, you'll always be my best friend, and you'll always have an equally important place in my heart. I love you," she repeated, and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Nothing romantic about it, just a promise between two friends. Yet still, Simon felt it was the first step on the road to reparation, and smiled in satisfaction, giving Clary's hand a squeeze before slipping through the partially open door and into the cool night air.  



	10. Original Character: Avery

Original Character: Avery

**A bit longer than usual...the words just kept coming. This I guess barely qualifies as Mortal Instruments related. The main character is in fact mundane and never has and never will be a part of the Shadowhunter world. However, ladies, I think we can all relate. **

**Please let me know what you think! Thanks to all of you that already do!  
**

Avery sat at her usual table in the back corner of the coffee shop, the perfect place for people watching. She had a stack of textbooks around her, waiting to be opened and read, though at the moment Avery had other things on her mind.

For the past three months she had been coming here—ever since the beginning of the school year—she had been coming here twice a week to study. The atmosphere of the neighborhood coffee shop was quaint and cozy, never to noisy, but never so quiet that Avery felt completely alone with her thoughts. In short, it suited her perfectly. She had staked out her spot facing the multiple table and plush armchairs, wanting to have the option of observing those around her if she chose to take a break from studying. With her tall, skim, caramel macchiato placed carefully next to her raspberry scone and her hair pulled back to keep from distracting her, this had become her routine. So much so that when she walked in every Tuesday and Thursday and 2:47, the barista was already preparing her drink.

It was about her third visit when she first saw him. He was hard to miss, with his golden hair and cocky gait. Avery thought he looked like an Abercrombie model, with his perfect features and shining eyes. She gazed at him, her arm stopped halfway to her mouth with a piece of scone. He ordered from the barista, flirting masterfully in a way that made the poor girl giggle ridiculously. Avery wondered if she had offered him a drink on the house.

Avery had watched this whole spectacle without realizing the blank expression on her face as she stared at him. When he turned to face her with his (potentially free) drink, he stopped for a moment. He looked over his shoulder, as if to see what she was staring so intently at, then realized that it was, in fact, him. Coming to understand this, he flashed her a wide grin, revealing perfect white teeth. Avery flushed and immediately dropped her gaze, utterly embarrassed. She worried—and secretly hoped—he would come over and talk to her. She played the scene in her head. He would ask why she was staring. She would reply wittily. He would ask her on a date. She would agree. And the rest was history.

Of course, like most fantasies, this never came to be. When Avery had regained her composure enough to look up again, he had already gone. She shook her head, convincing herself she had made up whatever connection she had felt.

The next Tuesday, however, he came back again. Avery had already gotten her drink, but desperate for some excuse went up to the counter to order something else, much to the shock of the barista.

"What would you recommend?" he had asked her.

Shocked at this unexpected contact, she had stuttered as she responded, "I-I like the macchiato."

He gave her an amused grin, looking at her shirt. "I noticed."

Horrified, Avery looked down to find a stain on her fresh white shirt. She must have knocked over her drink in her rush to reach the counter. Embarrassed, she hurried back to her seat without bothering to order and blotted at the mark with a napkin. Once again, he had already left by the time she was finished.

Over the next few months their sporadic encounters had been just as strange and left Avery feeling just as breathless. His bright eyes flashed before her in the moments before she fell asleep. His golden hair was reflected in the rays beaming down from the sun. And his smile, even just the faintest memory of it, could pick her up out of whatever slump she might be in.

Today, things were going to change. Today, _she _was going to change things. She had departed from her usually studying attire of jeans, and t-shirt and her pulled back hair. Avery had made an effort today. She had meticulously brushed her dark brown hair and pulled her bangs back with an ornate clip. She had applied mascara to frame her green eyes, and a light gloss to compliment her pink lips. Avery wore her friend's flowery blouse. She had sworn it could make everyone look good—something Avery clung to, as her confidence in her appearance wasn't exactly through the roof.

For the past week Avery had picked up extra shifts at the second-hand clothes store where she worked in order to afford the basketball tickets she now held in her back pocked. Guys liked basketball games, right? She would just march right up to him, tell him she had an extra ticket, and ask him if he wanted to go. He had been sitting in front of the fire for the past 15 minutes, which was strange to Avery because normally he just took his drink and left. Not that she was complaining. It had given her a chance to calm her rapidly beating heart and figure out what she was going to say.

Inhaling deeply, Avery stood and prepared herself to walk over to him. Just then, the tinkling sound of the bell signaled another customer. A petite redheaded girl entered, glancing in every direction, as if looking for someone. When she saw the boy, her face melted into a content smile. Avery bit her lip nervously, looking back at him. The same expression was mirrored on his features as he stood to greet her with a passionate kiss. Avery felt a lump rise in her throat and tears threatening the corner of her eyes. With a choked noise she hoped went unnoticed, she flew into the bathroom and locked the door.

Regarding herself in the mirror, she realized it was to be expected. There was nothing remarkable about her. Her hair was a common color and monotonously straight, nothing like the exotic, red curls of his girl. She was average height, not the dainty and concentrated beauty of this other young woman. In hindsight, Avery realized it made sense. Why would this boy—this boy she had imagined into her one and only—ever think about her that way when he had this other more suiting option? Of course he wouldn't. In fact, Avery realized, why would anyone chose her if there were so many more beautiful, funnier and more talented girls out there than she was?

And with that, Avery burst into well-deserved tears.


	11. Simon again

Simon

**My apologies for not updating in 4 months! The time sure flies. My apologies also if you don't like Simon, because this is the third oneshot about him. Really, I put this up because I was feeling guilty about not updating in so long. I'm working on some for Magnus so those will be up soon. **

**This one made me sad to write, because eventually we are all going to forget so much. Hopefully like Simon we can all hold onto what is really important, though. **

**Read and Review!  
**

It took me 350 years to forget your face, Clary. Twelve weeks to forget the exact shade of your eyes. Sixty-four minutes to forget the sound of you breathing. 173 days to forget exactly where each freckle was on your face. 207 years to forget your laugh. 210 to forget your smile. In eleven months I forgot if you could wink with your right or left eye. Thirty years and I couldn't recall what our last conversation was about.

In the long span of my life, we spent such a small portion of it together. Yet still my memories of you have far outlasted anything else.

It took me twenty years to forget my address with my family. Fifty-three to forget yours. Cell phones have long been obsolete. I remembered your number for 254 years. Do you remember how every year on our birthdays we would go to that little Italian restaurant a block from your house? I went there for thirty-two years, until they closed it down.

I forgot what your favorite dish there was after twelve years. Your favorite song three years after that. Thirteen years and I couldn't remember why you hated cottage cheese.

It's been 350 years, Clary. 350 years without you. I can hardly even remember one thing about you. It doesn't matter though, because I can still remember the one thing that is most important.

I love you.


End file.
